I went straight home after work and made tea for us all. Then sat and waited for the two menfolk to return.
Jamie shot straight upstairs. Dad threw himself onto the settee that we’d unshrouded from the sheets and groaned.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
“That was the longest and most humiliating hour of my life so far…” He reported. And that was saying something, given the hours he’d spent in police stations with me being lectured to by the pious Holty.
I sat down beside him on the settee. There seemed to have been a hiatus in the decorating, so we were living in a room consisting only of the settee, the TV and piles of curled up pieces of old scraped off wallpaper. Maybe even Dad couldn’t face the unbearable tigger bounce of Pauline while he was dealing with this crisis with Jamie.
“They clearly think we are irresponsible scum not worthy of setting foot over their lintel.”
Which wasn’t surprising really given Jamie had just got their precious little daughter pregnant… But I forbore to report that reflection to Dad.
“We offered to pay for a termination, but they said that since she was underage it could be done on the NHS. But then they said that as she was underage, the NHS would automatically report it as a possible case of child abuse so Jamie could get arrested for it and put on the Sex Offenders Register.”
“Oh my God, Dad!” I was appalled.
“Not for certain though, as apparently the pair of them have admitted that they were both fifteen when they started, so it might not count.”
“So what’s been decided?” I wanted to get him quickly to the end of the story.
“In the end they decided they wanted her to go to a private clinic out of the area so that no-one will know about it, so I’m going to pay for it and make Jamie pay me back over the next few years, but if any one of us tells anyone about what has happened or word gets out that Sally was ever pregnant, then they will go straight to the police and accuse him of it, and insist he gets put on a register…”
I was horrified. Thank goodness that I’d only mentioned it to Jo, who was miles out of town and didn’t know anyone round here, and that Jamie seemed to have kept it quiet at school.
“So nothing was said about keeping the baby?”
Dad shook his head.
“And how did Jamie behave?”
Dad looked miserable. “Bit of bravado, when I took him to MacDonald’s beforehand for us to discuss what we were going to say, but his lower lip started trembling when he was sat there in front of Sally and her parents, so I guess it’s beginning to sink in at last. Needless to say, Sally and Jamie are never to see each other again.”
“They’ll get over it,” I said brutally.
“Not sure I will though,” Dad said heavily.
“What do you mean Dad?” I was puzzled.
He shrugged, opening out his big hands in a helpless gesture. “Quite apart from being really disappointed in Jamie, I was looking at that lovely little Sally and feeling so ashamed that my son had messed up her life and then I imagined what she must’ve been like as a gorgeous little blonde toddler tottering about with plump little hands and big violet eyes, and then it suddenly hit me that we were discussing the abortion of my first grandchild who might, in a couple of years’ time, have been toddling towards me with strawberry blonde curls into my outstretched arms…”
“Oh Dad-” I said, embarrassed. I was surprised that he was being so soppy. But it was the first time I’d thought about the fact that this was a real potential family member we’d been deciding the fate of.
“Come and have tea,” I diverted him. “Should we call Jamie down?”
He shook his head. “Let him be. I’ll go up to him later and have a chat and see if he wants anything.”
I made a policy of avoiding Jamie over the next twenty four hours. I didn’t feel I had anything to say to him about Sally and I hadn’t decided how to approach him about the drugs. I rang Rajesh to brainstorm some ideas but he wasn’t even able to talk. “I’m absolutely snowed under with this wedding, Eve, you’ve just no idea! I should have stayed at a safe distance at my flat but now I’m roped into everything. I’ll pick you up at two pm on Saturday.”
“What should I wear?” I asked.
“How should I know? I’m just a mere man!”
“Well ask your sister then!” I told him impatiently. “It won’t do your cause any good if I turn up looking completely inappropriate.”
Quinn’s seventeenth birthday came and went with no obvious sign of him immediately hoofing off to take his driving test, so I really couldn’t tell what he was up to.
The message came back that red and gold was good, white or black a no-no, and a skirt that reached the knees essential. And apart from that it was up to me. I dove into my wardrobe on a mission to find something knee length in red, finally roping in the unlikely candidate of Lisa to go shopping with me for a solution. And all this just for a pretend date!
Lisa turned out to be great at shopping. I hadn’t realised how arty she was. After she’d decked me out to her satisfaction and we’d retreated to a Costa to reward ourselves with a sit-down and a coffee, she told me she’d been accepted to do a Foundation Course in Applied Art, and was thinking about going on to do a degree in it.
I was a bit gob-smacked. She’d left school when I did and had been working in a florist’s all this time.
“That’s how I found out what I wanted to do,” she explained, waving her spoon around for emphasis. “Floristry is an art form in its own right. You’ve got to be good at designing in 3D and you have to be really practical as you have to make all sorts of extras to go with the displays. It was my boss that suggested it eventually and I just knew she was right. If I get my foundation course finished before I’m nineteen it’s still free. And besides I’ve found I get terrible hay fever from lilies, so every funeral or wedding I’m sniffling away and my eyes watering something rotten.” She nibbled daintily on the little biscuit that came with the coffee, then added, “luckily the customers seem to assume I’m just getting carried away with the emotion of the occasion and keep commenting to the boss how sweet I am to take it all to heart so!”
Not having the time to hang out for any more chit chat, I hurried home.
I rushed home from work on Saturday, ignored HER who was noisily back in residence, paint brush in hand, which was a shame as it had felt like old times the last few days and Dad had seemed like my father again, and leapt into the shower. Rajesh had said there’d be a buffet there so I didn’t bother stopping to eat. Then I spent every last second trying to get my look perfect.
The doorbell rang on the dot of half two and Dad answered it. I hadn’t bothered to tell anyone at home where I was going so there was a bit of a shocked moment when I descended the stairs dressed to the nines, then Pauline mustered up a wolf whistle.
Out on the step, Rajesh greeted me with a grateful sounding, “You look amazing, Eve,” like he hadn’t been quite sure what he’d let himself in for by inviting me, and gave me a polite kiss on the cheek.
Not that I’d had any time to think about Quinn this week, but I was hoping he’d seen that…
An hour later and I was wondering what we’d unleashed by this charade.
“Rajesh this is awful,” I hissed to him. “I’ve been stroked and kissed and welcomed to the family by every blooming Massiji and Mamaji and Naniji and Dadiji and twenty six cousins and your sister keeps coming over and trying to prise information out of me, and I don’t see how we’re going to be able to slide gracefully out of this one. I think you’re just digging the hole deeper, pal.”
His long dark eyelashes veiled his big dark eyes for a moment, but not before I’d glimpsed a flash of panic in them. He grasped my hand. “Please, Eve, just keep it up for today at least-” Then he stopped, “Ssh, the ceremony is starting…”
Later, during the milling about, his sister singled me out for attention again. I knew I had to be extremely careful. As a fellow sist
er myself, I knew just how devious she would be to get to the bottom of what Rajesh was really up to. After various vague bland answers to her intrusive questioning, I managed to change the subject.
“What exactly was ‘Partition’?” I queried. “I mean, I know it was all the fault of the British,” I added hastily to avoid getting a history lecture about the evil Empire. “But Rajesh said that when he had a Muslim girlfriend-” (careful, careful, sound like you don’t know much about her), “-the family went ballistic and said that your grandfather was killed during Partition but it sounded like Rajesh hadn’t known a thing about it until then..?”
His sister pursed her lips and looked into the distance for a moment then looked back at me with a frown in her eyes. “Is that what he told you?”
I wasn’t sure what she was querying.
“They’ve never said anything about a grandfather being killed to me, even when they were kicking up about Raj wanting to marry that girl. That doesn’t sound right to me. One of our grandfathers only died quite recently, and although the other one was dead by the time I was born, I was led to believe it was an accident when he was working on the railroad in India.”
I said nothing.
“Hmm,” she turned away looking pre-occupied. “Sometime when it’s more appropriate, I’ll talk to our mother about that and try and find out what they’re on about.”
Well! Mysterious. But at least it had completely diverted her from quizzing me.
I slipped alongside Rajesh. “Your sister’s really beautiful,” I complimented. I meant it, she was classically gorgeous. “What does she do?”
“She’s training to be a psychiatrist,” he said absently.
“Oh my God, for goodness sake keep her away from my family then!” I exclaimed. “I mean it, Rajesh. You know what, when push comes to shove, if only they’d see it, your family would have much more in common with Nasim’s than mine. They’re gonna hate mine.”
“Sssh,” he hissed, “Don’t mention her name…” Then he sighed. “You’re right though. They’re just being pig-headed.”
Which reminded me… “Unless you eat pork?” I said suddenly.
“What?” He was utterly confused.
“Dad has a real thing about bacon, ham and sausages, so if you eat pork he’ll welcome you with open arms-”
“We’re not really getting married you know,” he reminded me.
“Let’s not keep this charade up too long,” I agreed. “Or it’s going to do our heads in!”
And as I watched his mother and three Massijis all in a huddle glancing over at me and obviously having a right good toot and discuss, I figured it the sooner we got ourselves out of this the better.
Back at home Pauline was agog. “A Paki wedding? What was it like?”
“Indian, Hindu.” I corrected. “Bloomin’ amazing.”
“Go on then,” she prompted and patted the place beside her on the settee. “Tell me everything!”
I threw myself down beside her and she directed at Dad, “Off you go and make us a cuppa, this is women’s talk!”
I attempted to describe to her the overwhelming whirl of colours and flowers and drums and flames and food.
When Dad came back in with the mugs of tea I said to him, “If I got married, what sort of wedding would you want me to have?”
“A cheap one,” he said promptly.
Pauline wagged a finger at him. “Now, now, this is your precious daughter you’re talking about!”
“Kathleen would be wanting a Catholic one,” Dad pointed out.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Dad,” I fumed. “Quinn and I are not getting married!”
“Looks like she might be getting a Hindu one quite soon,” Pauline said slyly.
Right that’s it, we really did need to put a stop to this! Tomorrow wouldn’t be a great time to tackle Rajesh, he wouldn’t be in the mood in the midst of the weekend long celebrations, but Monday, yes, Monday at the latest, I was getting hold of him. And she doesn’t need to sound quite so eager to get rid of me on the nearest bloke, I thought indignantly a few minutes later.
On Monday I felt knackered before I’d even got into work because I’d been working with Jo all Sunday until late on Pete’s car for Sheffield next weekend. Pete himself had been away somewhere doing a charity parachute jump.
“What’s he doing that for?” I laughed.
“He’s fundraising for a specially adapted quad bike for Doug. He used to be one of the old timer F2 drivers. He had an accident driving home from the St. Day stadium last year and ended up paralysed from the chest down. It’ll help him get out and about back home in Derbyshire.”
It set off a line of thought. “Are people ever badly injured on the tracks while racing with so many safety precautions in place?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “Not really. Not given what a thrashing we’re putting the cars through. But an eleven year old died of his injuries last year, so that was pretty gutting. Which reminds me, we’re going to have to weld a seventh roll-cage pillar over the centre sometime soon as it becomes mandatory next year.”
She saw my querying look. “It’s to increase protection of the driver’s head – it’ll stop intrusion through the rear window.”
Now I wished I’d come home a bit earlier as I was so tired I was finding it hard to concentrate. Trev moseyed casually over and I wasn’t even alert enough to move my backside out of the way fast enough. Seemingly encouraged by this, he leant nonchalantly against the wall blocking me in.
“Do you fancy a night out?”
I kept my back turned. “Really busy tonight, Trev.”
He hung around for a moment or so more. “Maybe another night then?”
I said nothing. Finally he went away. So he was making an explicit move at last was he? Bet Bolton had told him that me and Quinn had split up…
I was just too tired to ring Rajesh. I decided to start by going for the jugular instead. I marched into Jamie’s room and picked up the computer.
“Oy!” He looked round and swung his legs down from the bed where he’d been lying playing on his brand new x-box.
I clutched the computer to my chest. “If you want a computer in your room, then you need to buy yourself one with all the filthy lucre you’re making with your dealing.”
His eyes widened then narrowed to slits. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Course you do,” I snapped. “All those dodgy little packages you and Sahmir are peddling round the corner after school? I’m not stupid you know.”
And with that I walked out and left him to digest the fact that I knew what he was up to. He wouldn’t dare try and get the computer back in case I told on him to Dad.
I was just dropping off to sleep when my phone went off. I felt around for it. Jo.
I could barely believe what she was telling me. “How on earth did he break his leg?”
“The parachute jump of course – idiot. Stupid fucking idiot.”
“So Sheffield?”
She sighed, “Just me now. That’s the end of his season. And he was doing so well too!”
“How is he?”
“In traction in the General with a metal plate in his thigh and thoroughly pissed off.”
“Perhaps I ought to go and see him,” I suggested.
“Yeah, he’d probably like that. Don’t try and smuggle any Jack Daniels in for him though, the nurse practically frisked me. He’s in the orthopedic ward that the staff refer to as ‘the bikers suite’. So you get the picture. Lots of young men, and the nurses on high alert.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I promised.
So instead of ringing Rajesh, Tuesday night saw me hoofing up to the General. It gave me the creeps a bit. The smell and everything. Last time I was here I was in intensive care and someone was sobbing by the next bed.
Pete was looking terrible. His leg was all strung up in a cage with pulleys and stuff. He managed to muster up a wry smile when he saw me th
ough.
“Idiot,” I said. “Now someone’s going to have to fund raise for you.”
I looked around for a seat. They kept some plastic chairs at the end of the ward so I went and got one and plonked it down beside his bed. I glanced across at the nursing station to check that the staff were otherwise engaged and then I reached into my boot and pulled out a whisky miniature and slipped it under his pillow.
“Ta,” he said with a grin.
“And now we’re one mechanic down with Jo’s motor to be ready for Sunday.”
“Yeah, thanks for the sympathy,” he said good naturedly.
“And just as we finish getting your car perfect for you, you cock up the rest of your season!”
“Well the work doesn’t need to be wasted,” he suggested mysteriously.
I raised my eyebrows in query.
“You could drive it instead.” His hazel eyes looked straight into mine.
I stared at him. My heart pounding. I didn’t want to look stupid by assuming something he wasn’t meaning.
“What are you proposing?” I established cautiously, my palms wet and my mouth suddenly dry.
“I don’t mind you using it for the rest of the season. We can get you a licence and put in a notification of a change of driver. It’ll give you a chance to see if you’re really cut out for it, and if you are, maybe you can raise some sponsorship on the back of whatever showing you’ve made, and get hold of a second hand motor of your own before next year.” He looked seriously at me. “What do you think? Are you up for it?”
I could barely breathe. I wondered if I was going to faint there was such a pounding in my ears. The silence went on so long, he started to look quizzically at me.
“Think?” I got out at last. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven! Do you really mean this Pete?”
“Course,” he said. “I’ll talk to Jo about how she can help you.”
“Oh thank you, Pete! Thank you so much! You’ve no idea how grateful I am!” And I leant forward and kissed him.
Paradise Postponed (Not Quite Eden Book 2) Page 17